


Where your mother's blood dwells

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-30
Updated: 2004-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where your mother's blood dwells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/gifts).



> This is for Aja, who asked for Harry/Draco, just after the end of 7th year, with the swingset in the playground on Magnolia Road.

Harry pounded down the street, his lungs burning, legs aching. All the lamps were put out, and the only sounds were his own gasps for breath and his echoing footfalls.

As he turned onto Magnolia Road (wasn't it? everything looked different in the dark), it began to rain again. He stopped to put an Impervius Charm on his glasses, remembering with a twinge the first time Hermione had shown him the spell...

'You're too late!'

Harry twisted around at the raw and broken voice, shoving his glasses back on. Whitesilver smudge in the dark, and his eyes came back into focus and it was _Malfoy_ , cloaked in black and sitting on a swing in the empty playground.

'The fuck are you doing here?' Harry breathed out roughly. Everything seemed to tilt dizzily off to the side as Harry approached him, wand drawn— worlds colliding, things that just shouldn't be in the same place.

'Too late,' Malfoy said again. He was hunched over oddly into his cloak, dragging the toe of his boot through the wet sand as he swung slightly back and forth. 'They've already been and gone.' He jerked his head back, and Harry looked— a column of green-white smoke billowing up over the rooftops.

'If we weren't here... if none of this were happening... we'd be at the Leaving Feast right now. Can you imagine?'

The smirk in Malfoy's voice brought Harry back, and he turned on him, anger flooding up in his throat like he'd be sick. 'You—'

Malfoy's eyes were shut, and he was smiling. 'Said he needed all your blood relatives dead... but I overheard. Got here before them. Never saw anything so pathetic, Potter... your aunt and her fat pig of a husband... begging for the Dark Lord to spare them. You'd have liked to see it, I'm sure.'

Harry's face grew painfully hot in the cold wind (how many times _had_ he thought he'd like to see—) and he gripped his wand harder. 'You— you filthy—'

Malfoy made a face like he was going to laugh, but then slid off the swing seat and down to his knees, and coughed up blood. His cloak blew in the wind, and his shirt beneath was burnt and soaked with red.

'Got here before them,' Malfoy choked out again. 'Last thing he said to me was... I wasn't even worth a Killing Curse.'

And he slumped down into the sand.

'Harry? Harry!'

Harry turned, and it was Dudley, pelting down the footpath, face ash-smudged and wide open with fear.

'Harry— the power went out, and— the house— mum and dad— And they would've found me, but then this kid came, and they didn't see me, and I...' Dudley stopped, looking down at Malfoy where he lay crumpled in the sandpit. '...I got away.'

The rain poured down harder, and the sirens began to wail.


End file.
